Page 110 of The Viper's Wife

“Why not?” he asks in a husky voice, tilting his head back to watch me with half-lidded eyes.

Even as his little display sinks arousal through me, I don’t let go of the frosty anger swirling through me. He’s lucky I don’t have a knife in hand.

“This isn’t enough for me,” I say carefully, so he hears every word. “Youare not enough. I can’t raise kids with a man like you.”

He stills, a pained look crossing his face.

He’sfinallygetting it. He’s finally understanding?—

“You changed your mind?” he asks. A smile touches the edge of his lips. “You were thinking about kids?”

I bite back a scream. I turn on my heel and march out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

Our apartment greets me, decorated with all the furniture I picked out, a pink couch and matching armchairs, a soft, cushy striped rug across the entire floor, and a glass coffee table. Nico never said a word of complaint when I picked all this out. He seemed amused, and at the time, I took it to suggest how easy-going he could be, how he could let me take the lead in the home, at least.

But I was wrong.

He left his apartment empty because he doesn’t give a shit about interior decor, and he let me pick out our furnishings for the same reason.

The only thing he cares about—the only reason he likes me—is for the hole between my legs.

The bedroom door opens.

I turn. The look of open adoration on Nico’s face nearly blinds me.

I blink several times.Asshole.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say.

“Like what?” He moves closer.

“Like you’ve stopped listening to me.”

“I’m hanging on your every word.”

I want to throw something at him. I rub my neck. My shoulders always get tight when I’m upset.

“You’re tense. Let me give you a massage,” Nico says, stepping closer.

I let him walk all the way up to me until we’re toe-to-toe. I hate how stupidly tall he is. I’m used to having the height advantage, but with him, I have to crane my neck to meet his eye. It’s ridiculous.

“You’re not going to touch me,” I say.

“It’s going to be hard to put a baby in you without touching, but we can try.”

“You don’t want a baby, Nico,” I say, placing my hand on his chest to keep him at arm’s length, and for once, I’m proud of myself for not secretly thrilling at his mention of a baby. “Kids are work. Family is work. It means you have to do your best—you can’t fly off the fucking handle every time you get scared. You have to actually try.”

He catches my wrist with a loose grip. “I would do anything for my family. You know that.”

“That’s not enough. You have to be better. With yourwife. With your kids. You have to be good.” The words—not cool and unaffected, but thick with emotion—shock me as they tumble out of my mouth.

I’m asking a tiger to be a kitten.

What I want from him is never going to happen. His childhood was too messed up or there’s some inherent evil that runs through his veins or something else, but Nico is never going to be the husband or father I need him to be.

And I can’t keep asking him to change.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it, sending a wave of tingles down my arm. “I swear I’ll be good for you. I’ll be the best for you.”